By the end of the 19th century the French wine industry had recovered from the phylloxera
By the end of the 19th century, the French wine industry had recovered from the phylloxera infestation and wanted its market back. An unholy alliance formed between the wine lobby, the temperance lobby and conservative politicians who associated absinthe with avant-garde bohemianism. “There never was anything dangerous about absinthe, so long as it was made properly and drunk sensibly,” he said. David Nathan-Maister is a British-based trader in antique and new absinthes and absinthe memorabilia, who runs the best absinthe site on the internet – the Virtual Absinthe Museum ( www.oxygenee ) He says that absinthe was the victim of a manipulation. By the turn of the century – the “Belle Epoque”, when Paris was the artistic and literary centre of the world – the smell and taste of absinthe pervaded France but especially the bohemian world of artists and writers in Parisian caf?and dance halls such as Le Rat Mort and Le Chat Noir. Most vines had to be replanted, making wine scarce and expensive in France. Absinthe filled the gap, becoming the standard drink of all classes.
In the 1850s, the French wine industry was devastated by an aphid-like pest called phylloxera. Traditionally, it contained wormwood and green anise and differing combinations of other herbs, especially “little” or Roman wormwood (Artemisia pontica), fennel and hyssop. Absinthe, the drink, was created – or perhaps developed and first marketed successfully – in Switzerland and the Doubs region of eastern France in the early 19th century. “We want to restore the reputation of absinthe – the real absinthe – as a fascinating, delicious drink which, if you take in moderation, tastes like nothing else on the market.” What is absinthe? Absinthe is the French word for “wormwood” (Artemisia absinthium), a plant in the daisy family which has medicinal properties but can be harmful and is reputed to be one of the bitterest-tasting herbs in creation.
“It infuriated me that people could take some industrial alcohol and add green dye, as some of the 1990s absinthe makers did, and market it to crazy kids as a devil’s drink which would make them ’see things’. “They are wrong on the first count and they are definitely wrong on the second count.” Even if absinthe was never as harmful as calumny and legend insists, why revive it? Does the world not have enough hard drinks, without reinventing one? “Mostly I am interested in the truth,” said Mr Breaux, who is now based in Alabama. “They still believe that it is an evil drink, which drives you blind or crazy, or both. Under the 1988 law, “new absinthe” must not contain the harmful substances which the old absinthe contained, except that – according to modern research – the old absinthe never did contain harmful substances in the first place. “If you speak to 99 per cent of French people, even well-informed French people, they believe that absinthe is still banned in France,” said Mr Schaf.
You can make and sell absinthe so long as you don’t call it absinthe but ” extracts of absinthe”. In the US, it is illegal to make it or sell it but you are permitted to own it or drink it. In France, thanks to an EU directive transposed into French law in 1988, the situation is as cloudy and as enthralling (and as French) as a glass of absinthe itself. Is absinthe not illegal, banned in France in 1915 as a danger to public morals and national survival? Is it not hallucinogenic? Is it not still as dangerous today as when it (allegedly) drove Vincent van Gogh to slice off his ear? Absinthe has never been banned in Britain. His partner is Ted Breaux, 39, a chemist from New Orleans, who has analysed the contents of surviving bottles of pre-ban absinthe and cloned or “retro-engineered ” three modern absinthe brands. His company, Jade Liqueurs, sells 5,000 bottles a year for around €75 (£52) a bottle Hold on a moment. After various ventures, he started a company, called Liqueurs de France, which markets specialist drinks and especially absinthe.
They are rich, electric and fresh, like drinking a malt whisky made from wild flowers. My companion is Peter Schaf, 44, a former jeweller from Florida and Wisconsin, who married a Frenchwoman and came to live in France 12 years ago. Another is a bottle of “Verte Suisse”, a painstaking modern re-creation of the CF Verger original, distilled in France by an American chemist and marketed worldwide by an American former jeweller I try both Both are extraordinary. One of the bottles in front of us on the table is a 99-year-old bottle of CF Verger “Suisse” absinthe, discovered a couple of years ago in a Corsican cellar.